The Rise and Fall of Hannibal Barca, Part One
by darthbane7
Summary: Hannibal Barca, ah where to start. This story explores the depth to this enigmatic young commander's first true campaign, against the Iberian Tribes, and Gaul!
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: I don't own anything, as Sega/Creative Assembly have the copy rights, except original characters.

Please review. I like to improve my skill as a writer. Also inform me if it is not historically accurate (obviously, some characters are **made** simply for plot advancement and such).

My first, fledgling attempt. Hope you enjoy.

219 B.C. - The Second Punic War – Part 1 – Battle of Saguntum

Prologue:

_Narrator-_

A cry of despair rose out from the mass of red-shielded men, dripping in sweat, as the Carthaginian commander, Hannibal Barca himself, entered the gateway. Protected only with sheer metal plates, the rather clumsy looking commander rallied his troops forward.

"Onward, men! Fight to the death! Well, I mean, not that-" He was cut off as a hail of arrows clattered amongst his infantry.

Horses whinnied, blood-soaked men bellowed war cries at each other, and dozens of missile troops exchanged sling bullets and arrows, some clattering off armor, others finding their mark, signaled by a scream. Blood flowed like wine at a festival.

It was a scene from hell, and it was also Hannibal Barca's first battle against Rome and her allies. However, he was a long way from Rome, and he had to subjugate the defenders of the wall and gateway before getting that far.

As his Iberian infantry swarmed the walls with ladders, the people of Saguntum fought with ever-increasing ferocity. As each man got off the ladder, he was brutally stabbed through the leg or arm and thus incapacitated. The lucky few who were not dispatched in such a way had to hack madly through a determined mass of locals wielding deadly falcatas and longswords. Even as the first tower was taken, the gateway conquered, the Saguntumians raced to the city center and attempted to make a stand, not dissimilar to the 300 Spartans at Thermopylae. However, the locals weren't Spartans, and the Carthaginians lightly armored Persians.

Hannibal, as he rushed his horse through the soldiers, was suddenly brought down by an arrow, and the infantry rushed to the leader's side.

"I'm fine, just a scratch." He then winced as he looked at his flank. It was a bloody mess, as the arrow had narrowly missed his vitals, but a great volume of blood flowed. His close friend Hasdran rushed to Hannibal's side.

"Keep fighting like we did in battle school, and I may have to save you a couple more times," Hasdran joked, as he lifted Hannibal to his feet.

"Oh? I believe I was the one to knock you down all the time in battle school," the faltering commander replied as he tried to steady himself.

As Hannibal got to his feet, his men roared and fought with greater vigor and energy. Hannibal and the now mounted Hasdran led the charge into the city center. The war cries of the doomed locals became softer and less enthusiastic.

_Balan-_

I witnessed Hannibal, our beloved commander, go down. My heart dropped to my knees, and many around me cried out in despair. I hacked my way through to the commander, and could perceive Hasdran, the commander's ally and friend, help his friend up onto his horse.

Knowing our well-deserved victory was at hand; I stood up quickly and saw the two leaders ride on. Shouting out in a terrible joy, I joined the rest of my comrades in charging head-on into the fray and cutting down all in our path, and trampling them to death. Make no mistake, the locals were vicious fighters and gave better than they took. I was wounded a second time in this battle by a falcata-and-shield wielding berserker. I dove under his blows and struck him down at the legs. By then, he and I were the only two people still in battle. We grappled furiously; hands and feet were our only weapons. I then reached for a dagger, even as he throttled me. I grabbed it, and as blackness began straining at my sight, I ran him through his lung, and he fell back, blood trickling out of his mouth.

The commander came up to me, gleaming in blood-stained silver armor. His face was impassive, but I could see a slow trickle of blood flowing down his flank. My legs were shaking, and not due to any weakness. His grey eyes surveyed me with a kind of respect, and raised his voice.

"You fight well, a skill I lack. Your battle is one well fought."

I was dazed by the words and could only stammer, "Ah, err, th-thank you Commander."

Nodding his head regally, he left the scene, with many a head turned at me.

_Narrator-_

Hannibal sat down, heaving a big sigh.

"How many dead?"

"Not too many, considering the numbers we have. Only a thousand," Hasdran said, trying to comfort his friend.

"Not too many? I don't think there is such a word, Hasdran, and mind you, a thousand is a thousand, regardless the numbers of men we have."

"You, not we. Your father and the Senate made that very clear," Hasdran said, his cheeks reddening at the mortifying scene in which old Hamilcar had raged at the young soldier for using "we" when fleshing out the proposed invasion into Italy.

The old man had called Hasdran, "One of common blood, not a worthy friend or ally of my son!" Fortunately, Hannibal stepped in, along with his brothers, and escorted the leader out, still seething, before he could alienate the capable young officer.

Hannibal noticed this, and comforted his now fuming friend.

"Come now, my father meant no harm. He's simply prejudiced, that's all."

"Against me?"

"Against those not of noble blood."

The very thought of Hamilcar was depressing, so Hannibal changed the subject.

"So, what do you think my fighting skills," he said in a jesting voice.

"I'm not in the mood."

"Aw, come on, I know you want to.., so what do you think?"

"Fighting skill? Yes, you've got some, if fighting means getting shot off your horse!" Hasdran grinned, despite himself.

"Oh, so now who's in the mood for jokes, eh?" Hannibal was relieved as his friend's moody, irritable side had disappeared.

"At any rate, we had better mobilize, and quickly. The Iberian tribes hostile to us are not to be trifled with," said Hannibal, pulling out his map.

"Now, if I attack here, passing the Ebro…."

Hasdran could see the strain of the recent battle still on his friend's mind, but it soon faded as the two planned out a route to the Alps…..


	2. A New Year

Chapter Two – A Year Later

_Hannibal-_

I surveyed the area around my troops, and sighed in relief. There weren't any ambushes I could see. The long column of phalanx infantry marched out across the field, iron armor gleaming, as the midday sun hit us. My personal guard, the Sacred Band, rode out on their horses, clad in fine silver, spears up and at ease. As for my self, I was in the middle of the best of them, my own gold-and-silver armor shining dimly, as I had not had the time to polish the armor.

However, it was not only loyal Carthaginians that made up my force. I had Iberian infantry, their small round shields, javelins strapped to their backs. A contingent of fierce Gallic mercenaries marched at the head of the infantry column, singing bawdy Gallic songs, that had everyone near them singing it and smiling. It was a good day, all in all, far better than some I had personally been at...

_3 Months Back.._

The head of the Iberian infantry column screamed out, "Ambush!" as he was skewered by a spear. Anti-Carthaginian Iberian locals came out of the forest like ghosts in the night, which they were, to some of my more superstitious men, who fell back in fright. The locals, as I had ascertained the first time I met them at Saguntum, were very pro-Roman, and did not take kindly to a band of invading Carthaginians.

I rallied my men, crying out, "Advance onward men! Give no quarter!" This however, was for naught, as the locals vanished behind the trees or scurried backwards into the bushes, white warpaint gleaming in the firelight. The men foolish enough to chase these skirmishers were rewarded with a hail of stolen javelins, piercing their bodies. The leaves rustled, the moon came out from behind the clouds, the wind sighed, and the locals were gone.

A herald came up to my side and whispered in my ear, "I'm sorry General, we lost 120 men on that latest ambush."

I gritted my teeth in frustration and wondered, "When would I ever leave?"

_Hasdran-_

Hannibal was in the customary position, at the center of the Sacred Band cavalry, and his head was down, and I thought to myself, "That is not the Hannibal I saw only 6 months ago.."

I rode up to him and was shocked to find his expression so weary, so lifeless.

He asked me, "When will this end, Hasdran? When will my men stop dieing?"

"When we have eliminated the Romans."  
"That, my friend, will take years, if not a decade. Now, I even doubt whether we will even win."  
"Doubt, is the beginning of irresolution and debate. We have debated long to attack the Romans and now we have our chance."  
"Even so, I begin to weary of this. Day and night, morning 'till dusk, we have suffered the insults of these insolent locals, and lost many scouts."  
"Enough, my friend. I'm sure they will meet us in open battle..."

_Present- Narrator-_

Hannibal shook his head out of an odd reverie. Someone was calling his name.

"Sir! The Iberians have set up and are ready to repel us. They are on the far side of the field, and their numbers rival ours!" called out an auxiliary scout.

"Men!" Hannibal shouted, "Our time has come! Let us rid ourselves of the troublesome Iberians!"

The men let out a massive cry and they formed battle formation. Hannibal could see the Iberians loyal to him deploying as skirmishers, readying their deadly javelins, and muttering oaths. The Carthaginians took up the center position, with phalanx troops at the core of the line. Hannibal's Sacred Band cavalry also lined up to flank the enemy, gleaming in their silver armor. He had many missile troops in reserve, mainly slingers, but did not deploy them, as the slingers would be chased down by Iberian cavalry superiority. And of course, the elephants were ready, earth-shaking noises erupting from their trunks, massive bodies lumbering on, and although this made them seem very slow, Hannibal knew the real speed of elephants.

The other side, however, was just as scary. Warpaint was on the cheeks of every Iberian at the scene of the battle. Tens of thousands of Scutarii had swords and javelins ready, along with thousands of barbaric cavalry, bare-chested with huge wooden shields. The Iberians even had a few mercenary archers, apparently sure that their cavalry superiority would protect them. However, they would find that the word "cavalry" was the incorrect word to apply to elephants... Hannibal frowned. The Iberian march up to his forces was unexpected, as they should have known his infantry would rip theirs to shreds. Something was afoot.

Then, from nowhere, the young commander was faced with a situation he hadn't expected: an ambush, like the ones his army had endured for the last couple months, but on a far larger scale. And this hostile force was at the rear of the army!

_Balan- _

My campmate Dido, a name many people made fun of him for, as it was a woman's name, shouted, "I can see them! It's hundreds of.... naked fanatics?"

He and many men around began to laugh at the absurdity of the barbarian Iberians. Sending an armed and deadly force was one thing, but a bunch of naked men wasn't much of a danger. Although they carried swords and shields, well, unless you counted the warpaint on them, they wore nothing else. We hooted at them with gusto, and jeered. My unit turned to face the would-be ambushers. Interestingly enough, I observed that they said not a word, and simply rushed at us, until-

An unholy wall of sound blasted my ears, a wave of war cries, screeches, all-out screams, and bellowing. I instinctively lowered my guard, but raised it in time to block the blow that came rushing down at me. Others were not so lucky, and cut down, by the still screaming naked men. I tried to jab my sword up into the exposed belly of the naked fanatic, but the man was wily and clever. He sidestepped the blow, and struck out at me.

_Hannibal-_

I watched naked fanatics suddenly rise up from the grass and rush out at my Libyan spearman. I snorted in amusement. "Fools," I thought, "You rush my men wearing no armor?" But of course, then they cried out. A shiver ran down my sweaty back, a icy drop of water. My men lowered their guard, and this proved to be the undoing of many a good soldier. I groaned and rushed over to Hasdran, fumbling with his horn.

"I need you to take command of the front line. I don't think those spearmen guarding our rear will hold much longer unless I go over there."

He replied, "Luck be with you."  
"Likewise."

_Hasdran-_

Hannibal rode off, and I was left with a rapidly deteriorating situation on my hands: The thousands of Scutarii were running towards my men, out numbering them by quite a few men and the Iberian cavalry, outnumbering the Sacred Band 3 to 1. The skirmishers couldn't be used against the Scutarii, as the Iberian cavalry would swamp them. I watched the Iberians rush my now ready phalanx troops, and saw the men push back the Scutarii, to my amazement. However, the Sacred Band was not faring as well. Horses whinnied, swords flashed, spears stabbed, and although the Iberian cavalry fell by the dozens, and blood drenched the ground, there simply weren't enough Sacred Band members to halt them. I then did something crazy.

I ordered all the peltasts to rush up to the situation, use their javelins as spears to keep the cavalry that would come at bay, and for the slingers and archers to start fire on the cavalry. I then watched in amazement as the Iberian cavalry failed to notice the hail of stones pummeling them to a bloody mush. The entire battle then turned around. The Sacred Band, along with the missile support, managed to beat back the Iberian cavalry. I rushed over to the scene and... noticed a hail of arrows decimating my missile support. The Iberian archers had finally joined the battle. My slingers dropped to the ground like rag dolls, and my peltasts threw up their shields over their heads in desperation. However, I had a choice. Infantry or missile? The sheer number of Scutarii had finally broken the phalanx, and now that the Iberian king, Redonastro, was at the scene, shouting epithets, his men fought with greater vigor, and the phalanx troops tried to halt them in desperation, resorting to fighting with their light daggers. The Iberians shouted in excitement as some of the phalanx pikemen began to run away, but most held firm, though they were being cut down by the dozens at this point. A loud trumpeting noise alerted my to the presence of the .... elephants.

A smile crept up my face and motioned to the captain in charge of the elephants. I ran my now flagging horse to his side.

"Direct the elephants to charge to the Iberians. Give them a shock!" He nodded and shouted to his men. The elephants then stomped out with surprising speed, and I followed with them in the formation. I slowed just a bit so as not to get killed immediately in the ensuing clash. The elephants hit the rear of the Iberian's infantry formation with a clap like thunder. Scutarii flew up in the air, and screamed in terror, as the behemoths waved about their tusks, goring men on them. The swords of the doomed infantry soldiers bounced off the thick armor of the elephants, and any exposed spots were covered in thick hide.

Redonastro's pranced about, waving his men foward, but to no avail. The elephant's were more frightening than Redonastro himself, and many Iberians fled, leaving only the Iberian king and his personal bodyguard.

"Sumbit," I said, "and your life will be spared. You will get to keep your kingdom!" I waved him foward.

He shook his head. "Partial slavery is no better than slavery," he said this as he made a suicide charge into the elephants. His face bright red, he went down, sword flashing, with his entire bodyguard. With his death, the Iberians began to fall backward, and the men who were not yet injured followed, hot on their heels.

I winced as I looked over to the rear of the army's formation and although the spearmen had managed to fight off the naked fanatics, they were splattered with blood, mud, and sweat. Over three-fourths of the spearmen lay on the ground, calling for their mothers. All in all, not a very pretty sight.

"What happened?" I wondered.

_Balan- Half an hour ago-_

I took the hit on my helmet and saw stars. I shook my head to clear it, and saw my camp mate Dido stood above me, his sword dripping with blood.

"Need a hand?" He asked as he pulled me up.

"Yeah, thanks,-"I was cut off as the men in front of us were cut down, and I picked up my spear from the ground. And it started.

Men were being killed by the dozens as the foolish ones tried to flee, only to be stabbed in the back. Although we outnumbered these fanatics nearly two to one, every one we killed cost us another three men. The strongest man couldn't stand his ground against a fanatic in warpaint, skin caked in sweat and blood, screaming non-stop.

I stabbed and stabbed, and stabbed until my arms ached, until my armor was red, instead of white, until all I saw was a red haze, and some indistinct figures. I saw white-clad corpses litter the ground and this drove me to fight harder. I yelled as I stabbed into thin air, in an almost inhuman bloodlust. I came to when a heavy hand landed on my shoulder. I was about to stab when I noticed the figure I looked at was mounted. It was Hannibal Barca.

"Again?" I thought as the men around me, looking at me, suddenly fell silent, as I realized I was the only one still fighting. My opponent's body was mangled beyond human status, and I threw up right there and then.


End file.
